Warm Hearts for Cold Lands
by Aela-Lachance-97
Summary: Life in Skyrim is harsh, especially when you're from a place like Valenwood. After a brief encounter with a near-death experience, Caelan, a male Bosmer who traveled from his homeland to Skyrim, finds something in the harsh lands he never expected: love. And it comes in the form of a certain apprentice wizard we all know and love. Rated T for violence and mild adult content.
1. Chapter 1 - A Brush With Death

**A/N: Okay, so this is a little story that's been bothering the heck out of me, so I just had to write it! So, I hope you all enjoy and here is the first chapter of "Warm Hearts for Cold Lands."**

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Caelan cupped his hands together as he blew into them, a shiver wracking his body for about the thousandth time. A puff of chilled air formed outside of his hands as he blew, signaling the harsh temperature of the region he found himself lost in.

Why he had even come to this Gods forsaken part of the country, he didn't know. He had been told the northern-most regions of Skyrim housed creatures that held valuable alchemical ingredients, and he had been looking to stock up again. This...he hadn't been expecting this. He had not even been out here three days and he was lost. Everything looked the same; no landmarks to go by, just white, dense snow that either fell in bulk or just coated the ground in a constant blanket. It was cold, too. Not just the normal Skyrim cold, though. It was beyond that in this area. The elf had hoped he would run into Winterhold by now, but he hadn't even found it yet. Not a trace was visible that the town was nearby.

Cael silently wished he was back home in Valenwood. It had been hot and humid there, yes, but he would take that any day over what he was experiencing now. The bitter cold bit his fingers and made his eyes sting with tears; actually, he couldn't really feel his fingers at the moment...  
With that thought, he stole a glance at his hands, wondering if the appendages were still there. He breathed a foggy sigh of relief as his suspicions were proven wrong. He saw no signs of frostbite setting in, but his fingers were stiff and they sent shocks of pain up his arms when he tried to move them. He would be happy when he could finally leave this terrifying climate. That is, _if_ he ever left.  
Cael paused. Had he just heard...?  
_  
Whum!_

The elf gritted his teeth as something large buried itself in his right calf, resisting the urge to cry out in pain. He whipped around, spotting the foggy exterior haze of an ice wraith making its way toward him, it's cold eyes fixated on him.

Cael drew his Orcish bow and slid a steel arrow out of his quiver, notching it onto the string. Then, forcing his stiff limbs to move, he lifted the bow and drew back, aiming at the ugly thing's front. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breath i - _No!_

The elf's stiff fingers let the string go too early, throwing it off, the lead he took on his target becoming useless as it sailed past the wraith. So, using his last resort, Caelan drew his dagger and let the thing come at him. Closer...closer..._there! _The creature's head was close and, despite his body's aching protests, Cael brought his dagger down straight into its head. The creature, being made of ice, shattered as his knife came into contact, sending shards flying in all directions. One frigid piece caught the elf across the cheek, sending a shock of white-hot, almost numbing pain to his mind.

He felt the blood seep out, but it was ice-cold. He dared a glance down to his leg, seeing the un-melting spear of ice lodged into his calf. Slowly he worked himself into a kneeling position, wrapping his hand tightly around the frigid ice. Then he counted. One. Two. _Three_. In one yank, he ripped the ice out of his leg, this time failing to hold back his pained yell. The blood spilled onto the snow beneath him, turning it a shade of angry crimson. Like his cheek, the liquid-life was cold instead of the subtle warm it should be. That was worrying.

Caelan shakily pushed himself back onto his feet, gritting his teeth as he applied minute pressure to his right leg. Slowly, he continued his trek through the harsh, icy lands, hell-bent on finding some form of civilization. Hell, just a traveler would be nice! He needed to find help, fast. His mind raced. He would likely bleed out before he reached Winterhold. If not, he would freeze to death. There was probably a slim to nothing chance of finding help out here, but the thought was nice. It gave him at least something to hope for.

But apparently the Gods had forsaken him this day, because after no more of six minutes of slow traveling, the low howls of ice wolves met his ears. The sound of paws running came soon after, and they were approaching fast. Taking a quick look behind him, he spotted three of the cursed things running at him. So, taking a deep breath, he broke into a sprint, running awkwardly as his injured leg hindered him. The hunting howls rang out, the wolves eager for a good chase. However, they stopped suddenly, hovering uncertainly behind him. Cael didn't stop, though. He just wanted to get away for Mara's sake!

So he ran. He ran, and ran, and ran until his feet caught on themselves and he was sent tumbling into the snow. At the moment, he didn't care for his dignity as he let out a pained whimper. He raised his head, seeing he wasn't far away from an icy structure jutting out of the land. So, pushing himself to his hands and knees, his started a slow crawl toward a small crevice. It was long and painful, but he did eventually make it.

He tried sitting up against the huge structure of ice but failed, choosing instead to lay on his side, his cheek pressing into the cold snow, cut stinging like hell. He curls into himself then, seeking warmth that isn't there as he shivers violently. He closes his eyes, the exhaustion of two days of wandering catching up with him. Caelan gives another violent shudder as he clenches his teeth. He could feel himself slipping into sleep. Or was it death? He couldn't be certain.

Cael was nearly gone, feeling his heart slow as his breath calmed. And through the fog of bittersweet unconsciousness, he barely registered something warm, almost burning to his frozen skin, touch his neck where his pulse would be. Then he was lifted, head falling onto what felt like a shoulder. Before he could wonder whether or not he was dreaming it, he fell into the black abyss that was the unconscious world.

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**A/N: Well, there's the first chapter! I am actually proud of this chapter, which was finished and uploaded at 2a.m! I'm really excited about updating this, so expect another chapter soon! Who do you think saved Caelan? Or did someone even save him at all? Find out in the next chapter of "Warm Hearts for Cold Lands"! R&R!**


	2. Chapter 2 - A Brief Recovery

**Hey there, everyone! I think this is, by far, the quickest I have updated a story. So yay! Also, I was actually going to update this on Friday, BUT I ended up getting busy and couldn't do it 'til today! But it's up now, so, enjoy the second chapter of "Warm Hearts for Cold Lands"!**

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Warmth enveloped Caelan as he slowly came to. Was he dead? If so, it wasn't really that bad; it was warm, and comfortable. But... Could you feel pain if you were dead?

Cael moved slightly, only to groan in pain as his leg flared like liquid flames had scorched up his nerves. His cheek stung too, he noticed as he moved his head to the side, fabric brushing the tender skin of his injured cheek. Wait, fabric? The elf slowly blinked himself out of the fog of a deep sleep and was met with the sight of a pillow under his head, a bed beneath his body, and a blanket covering him. He turned his head to the other side, spotting a small end table near the bed. On its surface were about a dozen rolls of bandages, a mortar and pestle coupled with a few piles of herbs, a few glass bottles of water, and a knife.

"Where the hell am I?" Cael mumbled to himself sleepily. Well, he wasn't just going to lay there and wonder. So, gritting his teeth, he pushed himself into a sitting position. The blanket fell from his chest, and it was then that he realized his shirt and vest were missing as well as his boots, leaving him in just his trousers. He brought a hand up to his face, rubbing his eyes lightly. He tried bringing his legs around to drape over the side of the bed, but let out a pained groan as white-hot pain shot through his right leg, causing his vision to go blurry.

"Oh! No, no, no!"

The elf suddenly felt a hand on his chest, pushing him back down insistently yet gently. Whoever it was seemed mindful of the pain he was in, and for that, he was thankful.

"You shouldn't be getting up yet," a woman's voice said. "Just because you're awake doesn't mean you're fully recovered."

"Mmh...Where m'I?" Caelan mumbled as he lowered himself back down onto the bed, wincing as his muscles ached and protested. He closed his eyes in an attempt to will and lull the pain away.

"You're at the Frozen Hearth Inn," the woman answered. "You're in Winterhold."

Winterhold?

"You're lucky that young man found you when he did," the woman continued, sounding like she was walking toward the small table. "Oddest thing I'd ever seen in this little town: Imperial mage walks in with you half-dead in his arms, leg bleeding something fierce with a gaping hole in it, skin pale and lips turning blue." She seemed to shudder a little. "Scary image. I'm thankful my little Eirid wasn't in the room to see that."

His leg...Well, he could _feel_ it, so that was good, right?

"How was the damage?" the elf asked, opening his eyes to watch the woman, whom he discovered to be a Nord.

"Well," she began. "I would say that we saved your leg, but..." The woman trailed off, gathering some herbs and grinding them together in the mortar and pestle, adding little bits of water here and there. In the end she created a salve-like substance then moved to the edge of the bed Caelan was resting on.

"But...?" the elf urged, wanting to know whether it was bad news or not.

The woman stayed quiet, pulling the blanket away from the elf's right leg, the slight movement causing a brief flare of pain that was gone about as soon as it came. Cael's brow furrowed as he remained unanswered, watching the Nord woman intently. She gently rolled up his pant leg, revealing the bandages underneath. Then, as carefully as she possibly could manage, she began peeling the heavily stained material away from his leg. The elf grimaced as some stuck, clinging to the dried blood and Gods knew what else that formed around the wound.

The Nord woman unstuck it as gently as she could, tugging lightly until the cloth came loose. Then, with light fingers, she gently began to apply the salve she had made to the wound. The elf flinched a little as the wound stung.

"Are you going to answer me?" Caelan groaned out, keeping his eyes on the woman.

She gave a sigh, dipping her fingers back into the mortar and scooping out more of the salve. "I am not certain your leg can be saved," she said quietly. "The wound is unlike those I have treated before. It is rare for an ice wraith to do this."

The elf was silent, waiting for her to continue.

"But," she continued. "Only time will tell."

The effects of the salve were nice, filling the wounded area with a cooling sensation. He would have to get the recipe sometime; it would probably prove useful in his adventuring later on. Speaking of traveling...

"You said a man saved me?" Cael asked, dropping the issue with his leg.

"Oh, yes," the woman said. "A young mage. Though, I don't recall seeing him near the College; must be a graduated student. Said he was from Riften."

The elf nodded. Riften, eh? Long way from here if he remembered right. Long way to the south.

"Well, better or not, I'm not laying in a bed for a week," the elf said, sitting up.

"Ah! What are you doing?" the woman asked frantically, trying to push the Bosmer back onto the bed to no avail.

"As I said: I'm not going to stay here forever," Caelan said. "I'm leaving." At that, he moved his legs over the side of the bed. Then stood shakily and, spotting his shirt and boots near the door, dressed himself.

"You can't just leave!" the Nord woman said, following the elf. "You're going to make yourself worse!"

"I'll be fine," Cael said, stretching a little. He retrieved his bow and dagger from their spot near the inn's exit. "I've faced worse."

"But-"

The Bosmer turned toward the woman and smiled at her. "I am thankful for your concern; you've been very kind to me, even though I'm a foreigner. And I thank you for your hospitality, but I have to leave. I can't stay cooped up in a room for Mara knows how long."

When the woman sighed and gave him a smile back, the elf nodded, then opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him.

The air outside bit at him as he left, heading down the road to leave town, limping slightly. Where he was going, he had no idea. He just knew that he couldn't stay inside a little room forever. Maybe he could find work somewhere, or do mercenary work. Eh...scratch that. No mercenary work.

Caelan hopped onto the horse-drawn wagon and sat down on one of the benches, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his chin in his palms. He glanced toward the driver upon being questioned about his destination, then toward the floor as he thought. Where could he go? Almost any town offered work...But he prefered somewhere warm. Definitely somewhere warm. And he loved water, too...

"Riften."

The town's name came out before he could stop himself. But...it seemed right. Why not?

So, he paid the driver and, upon the wagon's departure, laid down on the bench, crossing his legs at his ankles and positioning his arms behind his head. Before Cael even realized it, he was beginning to doze and, within a few minutes of the wagon's rocking, he fell asleep.

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**And there we have it! I am pretty proud of this chapter, but it felt a little rushed...Did it feel rushed to you guys? Also, I want to thank my first reviewer for this story! First off, thank you for reading! Second, I am glad you enjoyed the first chapter! You were my motivation to get this next one out! **

**I promise to update soon! So keep on the lookout!**

**R&R! Love you guys, and see you in chapter three of "Warm Hearts for Cold Lands"!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Journey and Arrival

**Holy crap guys. I think this is the best I've kept up with a story...The other attempt's updates were, like, months apart. I really like this story though, and I want to stay with it! So, enjoy chapter three of "Warm Hearts for Cold Lands"!**

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When Caelan next woke, he felt warm sunshine on his face. It was a nice, and almost drastic, change from the harsh weather at Winterhold, and much more comfortable for the Bosmer. It wasn't quite like home, but for Skyrim, the weather was amazing. The elf kept his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth on his skin. He did notice that the wagon had stopped...Hm, wonder why?

"Hey, mister...are you awake?"

Cael opened his eyes at the young voice, then turned his head to see who had spoken to him. It was a little girl. He hadn't seen any children yet, though he had only been in Skyrim about a week. She was adorable, to say the least. Bright blue eyes, like the sky. Golden hair plaited into twin braids behind her ears. He had actually never seen a child like her...though Valenwood's children were much different than those in Skyrim.

"Well, I am now, little lady," he said, shifting so he was propped up on his elbow, laying on his side as he looked at the child.

She backed up a little, looking a little scared of the elven man. "Woah, hey," he said quietly. "I won't hurt you. Not really much I can do anyways," he added as he shifted his legs a little, grimacing in pain as the wound in his leg flared.

The little girl paused a moment, then walked slowly back toward the elf. "Are...are you from Valenwood?" she asked, posture somewhat guarded but eyes shining bright with curiosity.

Caelan chuckled. "Yes, I am, in fact," he said. "Though, Skyrim is nice. It's a huge climate change, though. Thought I would freeze to death!"

A smile made its way onto the girl's face. She walked up to where he lay on the bench, then lowered herself until she sat on her knees in front of him. "How old are you?" the girl asked. "Uncle told me Elves can live for a really long time."

Caelan thought a moment. "Let's see...I turned...two-hundred and seventy, six months ago."

The girl's eyes widened. "_Two-hundred and seventy?!_ That's amazing!"

The elf laughed a little a the child's wonder at his age. It was nothing new really, but to someone who wasn't an elf, it was probably incredible. Especially to a child.

"Um..."

Cael heard the slight hesitation in the girl's tone. "What is it?" he asked. "It's okay; I don't bite, I promise."

The child giggled. "Um...Did...did those hurt?" she asked, brushing the tip of her finger against one of the tattoos that knotted over itself on his temple. "I heard that they use needles to put the stuff under your skin..."

"You heard right," the elf said, chuckling a little as her eyes went wide again. "And to answer your previous question, yes, they did hurt. Quite a bit, actually."

"Wow..." The little girl paused again. "Um...are you...are you _really_ an elf?"

Caelan gave her an odd look. "Of course I am," he said. "What would make you think I'm not?"

"Ah! No, no! We don't talk to strangers!"

A woman suddenly hopped onto the wagon, her arms instantly around the child, giving Cael a look that would scare a Saber Cat._ Ah_, he thought._ That's what_.

"What have I told you about talking to strangers?! Especially..." the woman trailed off a moment, then continued in a quiet voice. "Especially elves! They are not our kind! They are wild savage things and would kill you without any hesitation!"

The elf rolled his eyes as he felt the wagon start to move again. "Yes, because I was going to lure your daughter into a trap and kill her while she slept," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He had heard of the racism that went on in Skyrim, but he had never thought it would run so deep as a mother forcing the belief on her child.

The woman shot him another nasty look, her lip curling slightly in malice. The hatred wasn't just evident in her voice; the elf could practically see the pure black fire that burned in the woman's eyes as she looked upon him. "Not another word out of you, vermin!" she snapped.

"But...but, Mama! He's really nice!"

_Smack!_

Next Caelan knew, the little girl was on the wagon's floor, crying and holding her cheek. That made his blood boil. He agreed with teaching children discipline, but outright hitting them...that was something he didn't believe in. He sighed and closed his eyes, going back to the position he had initially fallen asleep in earlier. He wanted to comfort the child, but he knew he couldn't do a thing with the mother watching him like a hawk. So, he allowed himself to relax, eventually feeling sleep take him again.

* - * - * -* - * - * -*

When Caelan awoke once more, it was nighttime, and the wagon was still moving. He gazed up at the stars before looking around the wagon. The woman was still there, but she was asleep now, her neck bent awkwardly as she tried to find a comfortable position. The quiet sniffles and hiccups made him forget the woman momentarily as he sat up and looked around the wagon.

It didn't take long to find the source of the small noises, for when the elf sat up, he saw the girl huddled near the bench he had fallen asleep on. With one more glance at the hateful Nord woman, Cael slid onto the floor of the wagon next to the little girl. She looked at him through teary eyes and, realizing who had settled next to her, threw her arms around him.

"I don't understand," she whimpered. "Mama says you're bad. But you're not. Why?"

The Bosmer sighed. "Some people think that, because some elves are bad, that they are all bad," he said softly, wrapping his arms around the child. He had always loved children, though why, he knew not. Something about them; such energy and happiness. Though, right now, the girl was the complete opposite.

"Oh..."

That was the only response he received from the girl, though she seemed happy enough with the silence. Her face was now buried in his neck, and her long lashes tickled him whenever she blinked. Cael slowly started rocking back and forth, hoping to comfort the little girl as she held onto him tighter.

"I'm tired..." he heard her say, and he nodded.

"Go to sleep," Caelan said quietly. "I'll be right here."

It was needless to say Caelan got a harsh lecture about tricking children the following day when the small family got off at their last stop. And a 'snotty remark' as the woman had put it, earned him a slap from her while the little girl begged her mother to stop. So they left into the city they had stopped at. It was then that Caelan realized that their destinations were the same. He looked upon the wooden gates of the city, smelled the water, the mead, the people. He had arrived at last.

Riften.

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**Yay! All done with this chapter! So, I sort of have to admit...this was kind of a filler chapter, and I don't think it was very good...BUT! I promise the story will start moving in Chapter Four! So stay tuned for the next chapter of "Warm Hearts for Cold Lands"!**


	4. Chapter 4 - Meetings

**Hello, all you beautiful people! Sorry it's sort of been awhile, I just haven't found any time to write between school and all the fracking homework I get! BUT! I promised myself I would update before this semester ended!**

**Marcurio: Can I actually be in this story now?**

**Me: Yes! You can have your introduction finally!**

**Marcurio: 'Bout damn time...**

**Me: Oh hush. I could make you wait another chapter...**

**Marcurio: No, no! It's okay!**

**Me: Hehe...Anyways! On to chapter four! Wait...this is chapter four right?**

**Marcurio: *sigh* Yes it is.**

**Disclaimer: (since I forgot it the first three times...) The Elder Scrolls series doesn't belong to me at all. The only thing I own are my random-ass OCs that pop up everywhere.**

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Caelan's leg throbbed as he approached the wooden gates of Riften, making the elf wish he had taken some of that Nord woman's salve with him. Walking around with a half-sealed hole in your leg was not the most comfortable experience.

"Halt."

Well this was new. Caelan raised an eyebrow at the guard that had stopped him, wondering why he had been stopped in the first place. _Oh, please don't tell me this is one of the cities that enforces the 'Nords Only' policy, _the mer thought, trying not to let his distaste be seen clearly. "Something wrong?" the elf asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Before you enter, you need to pay the visitor's tax," the guard said. Caelan could practically _hear_ the man's smirk under that stupid helmet...

The Bosmer tilted his head slightly. "What's the tax for?" he asked, knowing this was something more than just city business.

"For the privilege of entering the city, of course," the guard said, sounding impatient.

That was what this was all about? Caelan couldn't help but laugh a little; this was ridiculous. _I'm a foreigner and I know this isn't right_, he thought, shaking his head. "This is obviously a shakedown," he said, shifting most of his weight to his uninjured leg.

The guard standing adjacent to the one that had spoken shot a look at his partner, who seemed to be scrambling for an answer. "Ah...Alright, alright...Keep your voice down."

Caelan smiled triumphantly at his small victory over the guard. The elf watched as the man walked up to the gate and unlocked it, his posture screaming defeat. A lot of people must have let it slip and just paid the money. The Bosmer gave a smug smile to the guard as he walked past, slipping through the gate an into the city known as Riften.

The man was immediately hit with the strong scent of mead, a slight fishy scent lingering beneath it. The town wasn't bustling with activity, but it was definitely busy enough. As he continued forward, Caelan could hear voices drifting from what looked like a little market right in the center of town. Shouts telling of great deals on weapons, armor, and jewelry rang out as people passed by each little stall.

Cael continued forward, glancing around Skyrim's "City on the Water" as he walked, looking for any sign of an inn or tavern to stop at. His leg was starting to bother him, the pain throbbing through his nerves with each step he took. Finally, he spotted a sign that read "The Bee and the Barb." _That sounds like it could be the name of an inn, _the Bosmer thought. Knowing there was only one way to find out, the elf limped over to the building and entered.

The interior smelled of strong drink with the slight scent of smoke nearly hidden underneath. The clinks of glasses coupled with the loud banter and laughter of men rang through the air in a cacophony of noise that somewhat irritated Caelan's sensitive ears. He chose to try ignoring it, though, aiming to just sit for a bit before setting out again, maybe start asking around for the mage that had saved him. So, the Bosmer made his way painfully to the nearest chair, which was nearly in the middle of the room.

The man let out a light breath as he sat down, the pressure on his injured leg lightening, relieving the sore muscles there. He tilted his head back, resting it on the back of his chair, his eyes closing momentarily.

"Can I get you anything, lad?"

Cael jumped a little at the sudden voice next to him, a slightly gravelly laugh meeting his ears over the noise of the inn. The one who had spoken was an Argonian man, whose arms were crossed over his chest as he awaited an answer.

"Ah, no thank you," Caelan answered. "I just need a few moments to rest."

"Alright then," the Argonian said. "If you need anything, just call for ol' Talen-Jei." And with that, the reptilian man walked away.

The Bosmer man started to relax again, reaching down to the small pouch hooked to his belt and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He gingerly unfolded the aged paper, setting it down on the table and flattening it out as best he could, revealing it to be a map of Skyrim he had acquired.

"Okay," Caelan half-sighed, half-mumbled to himself. "I'm here-" He settled his finger on Riften. "And I just briefly visited here-" His finger slid northwest to Whiterun. "There's no way in hell I'm going back here..." The elf's hand settled over Winterhold and the barren tundras that seemed to surround it. Then he paused.

There were eyes on him. And he didn't like that.

Footsteps slowly drew closer to where Caelan sat, quiet and unthreatening. The Bosmer kept his head down despite his curiosity, appearing as if he was still studying his map.

"Can I sit?"

Caelan glanced up at the voice, locking eyes with a man, Imperial by the looks of it, who was standing behind the chair across from the elf. His posture was friendly, though slightly business-like, as if he were aiming to negotiate something. The elf kept his gaze on the newcomer a few moments more before nodding slightly and returning his attention to his map.

The distinct sound of a chair being pulled across wood rang in the Bosmer's sensitive ears a moment, followed by the rustling of cloth as the Imperial man sat down. Caelan kept his gaze trained on his map, trying to figure out where to go next. _Maybe I could visit Markarth...Or maybe Solitude, _he thought. However, his thoughts kept wandering to the Imperial that sat across from him, watching him. Who was he? What did he want?

As if sensing Caelan's thoughts on him, the Imperial spoke up again. "How's your leg?"

Caelan shifted a little, as if just remembering the wound was there. He answered without thinking. "It's, ah...It's pretty g-" He stopped, gaze snapping up to meet that of the Imperial man. "How did you...?"

"Know?" the Imperial finished. The man chuckled. "I'd think the one who saved your life would know of your injured leg."

The Bosmer's eyes flew wide with shock. "_You? You _were the one that found me?" _I suppose that makes sense..._the elf thought, taking a moment to look over the Imperial. _The woman at the inn said in Imperial mage found me. And he looks like an Imperial mage to me._

The man merely chuckled again. "Is it really so shocking?" He paused. "Well, I suppose it is. Though, I wasn't really expecting to find someone in the ice fields of Winterhold. People usually aren't stupid enough to venture there unprepared."

Caelan growled a little before he could stop himself. "I'm not exactly a native of this land," he snapped grouchily. He didn't take being insulted lightly.

"Obviously," the mage scoffed, seeming to take an interest in his nails a moment.

Caelan huffed, then went back to studying his map. _I heard Solitude is nice, but Markarth is warmer_, he thought, trying to ignore his 'guest'.

"Are you really going to wander around again?" The mage suddenly asked. Caelan could practically _hear_ the smirk in his voice. "Yes I suppose that's a good idea, considering _how well _it went last time."

Oh, yes. The mage was asking for it. However, Caelan couldn't really do much, injured as he was. While he could walk alright, a fight was definitely out of the deal. Unless he could put an arrow through him...but he didn't think the guard would be too fond of that idea. So, the elf just settled for growling again.

"Oh, well aren't we fierce?" The Imperial said in a sarcastic tone. "Tell me, do all elves growl? Or is it just you?"

"We all do when we're angry enough..." Caelan mumbled, glancing up at the mage.

A chuckle told the elf that his little comment had been heard.

"Well," the mage began. "On a more serious note, I actually would like to know if you're planning on travelling again."

Caelan raised an eyebrow in question. "And why would my plans concern you, mage?" he asked, sitting back in his chair.

"Well, I suppose you could say I'm a mercenary of sorts," the Imperial explained. "And I happen to be looking for work."

"And you think I would hire you? Now just why would I do a thing like that?" The Bosmer said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Imperial shrugged. "Why not? I know this land better than you do, and I could help you fight. I just happen to be a master of the Arcane Arts."

Caelan rolled his eyes at the last comment, but then he started thinking on what he had just been told. The mage had a point...Caelan was foreign to these lands; his little incident near Winterhold proved that. It could be useful to have someone who knew these lands...But there was also the fact that the Imperial was a wise-cracking, smart-ass that might be more trouble than he's worth. Still...

"Your silence tells me you're actually considering my offer," the mage said after a few moments.

"Ehh...I might be..." Caelan said, biting his lip a moment and glancing up. "What exactly would the price be for your services?"

"How about...500 Septims?"

The Bosmer's eyebrows went up. That was a lower price than he had expected; most mercenaries wanted between 1000 and 1500 Septims for their hiring fee.

"Well? What say you, elf?" the Imperial asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Caelan remained silent a moment, before reaching into his small bag and pulling out a little pouch that held at least five hundred Septims. The elf then slid it across the table toward the mage. "Fine. You're hired. Don't make me regret it."

The Imperial smirked, catching the pouch as it slid to him. "An excellent choice, elf."

"I have a name, you know," the Bosmer said irritably, folding his map back up and replacing it inside his little bag.

"Oh? And just what might your name be, then, elf?" This time the mage seemed to stress the last word, seeming to notice how much Caelan disliked being referred to as 'elf'.

"It's Caelan," the Wood Elf answered. "And what might yours be, mage?" The Imperial chuckled.

"Marcurio. At your service."

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**A/N: HOLY CRAP I FINALLY FINISHED THIS STUPID CHAPTER**

**Oh my gosh you have no idea how long I've been trying to get this darn thing finished! But I finally did it! And I'm very sorry about making you guys wait so long TT_TT I've just been busy...But NEVER AGAIN. I'm actually going to try writing more than one chapter at a time so I'll be a few chapters ahead of each actual update...I hear that works a little better. Also, I hope I kept Marcurio in character in this...I think I did okay, but I'm not real sure...**

**Anyways, thank you to my reviewers:**

**Guest 1: Marcurio's my favorite, too XD And glad you like the story!**

**Guest 2: (Not sure if you're the same person as Guest 1...) Marcurio has become the only follower I use now. Anyone else just feels...wrong. And yeah, he does b**ch a lot, but ya still gotta love him!**

**EvilValenStrife: I'm glad you like the story! It's nice to hear positive feedback on it!**

**And on that note, I leave you for now, my people! See you in the next chapter of "Warm Hearts for Cold Lands!" R&R!**


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